


Bend or Break

by ramonaspeaks



Series: Our Threadbare Lies [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Hangover, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramonaspeaks/pseuds/ramonaspeaks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots from Phil's perspective set during Our Threadbare Lies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chimera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Phil's overactive imagination was more of a curse than blessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set towards the end of Chapter 4 of Our Threadbare Lies.

Phil cast a silent apology to his liver as he dry swallowed two paracetamol and resisted groaning into his pillow. It was a pitiable condition to be left without an outlet to express his agony, but noise would only add to the crashing percussion ensemble that had taken up residence in his brain. There was no need to encourage them.  
  
At least he'd left out medicine for his inevitable morning hangover. Drunk Phil was always considerate like that, even if he wasn’t coherent enough to remember a glass of water.  
  
The shower was running by the time Phil garnered the strength to drag himself into the kitchen. He stumbled his way to the sink and hoped that Dan would be occupied for a little while longer. Truly _unhealthy_ quantities of coffee were going to be necessary before he felt human again. Each blink stung like he'd spent the night rubbing sand into his eyes and he probably looked several shades paler than his typical ghostly white.  
  
Phil cupped a hand under the tap and sloshed water in his mouth to chase away the chalky residue. Fragmented memories from the previous night floated back to him like snags of dreams and he sputtered into the sink with a fit of giggles.  
  
“That's great.” Phil wiped at his chin. “Classy,” he mumbled to the empty room, unsure if he was referring to his current dribbling or the way he'd bolted like a mouse being tracked by a python the moment he'd realized that Dan was hitting on him.  
  
Well, _possibly_ hitting on him. It was presumptuous to assume. Everything could be written off as banter until clothes were actually being removed, but rubbing against someone's thigh and asking for advice on how to finger yourself had to count as flirting.  
  
Not that it was a chat up line exactly, but it was definitely... _something_. It had to be.  
  
Phil chewed at his lip as he pulled the kettle down to fill it with water.  
  
Maybe there were a few mixed signals to consider. Dan had admitted that sometimes his crude remarks were only to get a reaction. Like when he'd sent Phil that picture of him staring at the camera with come-fuck-me eyes while lewdly sucking on his fingers. That'd been a joke too. Hilarious.  
  
The shower turned off and Phil instinctively turned his head in the direction of the bathroom. He could just make out the sound of Dan moving about in there. It sounded like he was either talking to himself or humming.  
  
“Damn it,” Phil muttered under his breath.  
  
The kettle was flowing over from his lack of attention. He grabbed a clean linen to soak up the water, but pressed it to his face and exhaled his frustration into it for a moment before dealing with the spill. He’d always appreciated his overactive imagination, the way his mind automatically supplied full-color visuals for each passing thought, but now it felt more like torture.  
  
It was hard enough trying to get his mind off last night. The thought of Dan naked and swathed in one of his towels was close to unbearable. There were probably water rivulets making paths down his hips and between his thighs, darkening that little knot of hair and dripping– well, not that Phil _actually_ knew what Dan looked like naked.  
  
It just wasn't hard to fit together a mental image between all the photos he’d seen.  
  
The countertop felt cool against Phil's forehead as he waited for the kettle to boil. He was almost grateful for the persistent headache because the pain was the only thing preventing him from being half hard by now. Pieces of conversation kept coming back to him, the way Dan's voice cracked when he said _“it felt weird”_ and his eyes went wide when Phil started explaining how to make it feel good instead.  
  
It was lucky that Dan had stopped short of asking for a hands-on demonstration. Phil found it hard to resist that shy voice he used, especially when it kept breaking with nerves, because Dan was the _last_ person Phil would think of as innocent. He was the textbook definition of desensitized. Social psychologists across the globe would cluck their tongues at the way he cackled over the most disturbing images the internet had to offer. So it was a tiny bit thrilling to watch him go still and eager over topics Phil didn’t exactly find life-changing anymore.  
  
Which probably made him a total arsehole.  
  
Oh god, this was _bad_. Dan didn't want to date him. He wasn't really in a place to date anyone right now. What he needed was a friend and Phil wanted to be that for him. He wanted to be that selfless, helpful person that he'd never had himself when he was younger.  
  
It was just that he also wanted to push Dan up against the wall of his shower and suck him off until he sobbed.  
  
Did those _have_ to be mutually exclusive?  
  
Phil plucked his favorite mug off the shelf with a frown. Maybe the shower was a bad idea anyway. Dan seemed liable to hurt himself in less dangerous situations. There was no way he'd be able to hold himself upright on a slippery surface, not even with one leg thrown over Phil's shoulder and both hands clutching his hair.  
  
As much as it made an appealing image, the lack of realism was off-putting.  
  
There should definitely be a bed involved. Maybe soft, classical music playing in the background. That seemed more Dan's style. He'd be draped across the bed on his stomach and- _no_ , he’d be up on his knees with his face pressed to the mattress instead so that- or, _god,_ spread out on his back with his hands gripping the headboard while-  
  
“Good morning.”  
  
Phil wheeled around at the sound of Dan's voice. His fantasy collapsed in an instant.  
  
“Hi,” he choked out. There was a guilty churning in his stomach as the chimera splintered into pieces and reconstructed into the _actual_ Dan standing in front of him. “Did you sleep well?”  
  
“Yeah.” Dan nodded and leaned against the counter. His damp hair curled in different directions across his forehead and he held his arms securely against his stomach. It was a protective stance that made Phil take a step back to put more space between them. “No hangover either. That was a pleasant surprise.”  
  
“Lucky. Wish I could say the same.” Phil stretched to work out the ache in his back. He almost made a joke about the resilience of youth, but it didn't strike him as humorous at the moment. “I'll be fine after coffee though,” he added optimistically.  
  
“Good. So, um, sorry if I got weird last night,” Dan said. “I was a couple notches higher on the drunk scale than I’d realized.”  
  
“Yeah, I could say the same.”  
  
Phil laughed and tried for a carefree shrug. It was easy enough for him to let go of embarrassment. Every humiliation turned into a funny anecdote in the end. The guilt was another matter entirely. It was better to retreat into less confusing topics and let that stay buried where it belonged.  
  
“How about breakfast?” Phil asked.  
  
His stomach flipped at the amount of relief in Dan’s smile.


	2. The Four Stages of Bad Decision-Making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s commonly said that falling in love isn't a choice. Phil planned to test that theory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set during Chapters 7-8 of Our Threadbare Lies.

**Stage One**  
_A problem is discovered._  
  
It was inevitable that Phil would run into his ex-boyfriend again at some point. They still had over half of their friends in common. It was bound to happen.  
  
He had even prepared for various scenarios where they might see each other.  
  
The plan was to smile and attempt small talk before removing himself from the situation as quickly as courtesy allowed. Eavesdroppers would be impressed with his maturity and the way he deflected any hint of nastiness with kind remarks. They'd tell their friends about it at fancy dinner parties later on, holding a cocktail in one hand and canapé in the other, captivating audiences with their story of the most dignified conversation ever witnessed.  
  
He'd _not_ planned to be wearing cat ears when it happened. That was a stroke of bad luck.  
  
“Why are you even here?” Joshua demanded.  
  
Phil gave him a tentative smile. _He_ had more of a right to ask that question. It was an event for YouTube after all. “I'm not trying to ruin your night. It just looks like we'll be staying at the same place.”  
  
“Not fucking likely.”  
  
The vitriol in the words sliced the air between them. Phil held his smile.  
  
It was still instinct to read Joshua’s mood. Phil could deduce from the curl of his lip when he was going to say something cruel. The feverish tinge to his neck was a barometer for his temper. His glassy, bloodshot eyes showed he'd been drinking.  
  
The scowl was there too. That same deep-set frown had been such a perpetual fixture by the end of their relationship that Phil had sometimes kissed him just to watch it melt away. He'd coaxed him into bed more times than he cared to remember with a feeling closer to pacification than passion.  
  
“I didn't know you'd be here,” Phil said. “Can't we just, like, coexist for one night?”  
  
“That's not going to work,” Joshua said. “Find somewhere else.”  
  
“But it’s already late.” Phil cringed. His words sounded like a plea. It was a tone of voice he’d hoped never to use around him again. “I haven't exactly planned anywhere else for us to stay.”  
  
“And who's _us_?”  
  
Phil glanced across the park at where Dan was standing in a cluster of people. They searched each other out in the crowd each time they were apart, but always dodged eye contact. There’d been a trace of tension between them ever since their aborted kiss at the train station, which Phil assumed was primarily born from regret.  
  
Either that or maybe he was being too much of an obstacle between Dan and all of the people who would be ecstatic to hear that his sleeping arrangements had fallen through. If Dan was still thinking about some impulsive exploration, there were plenty of other opportunities available in this crowd.  
  
The thought brought an unwelcome surge of annoyance.  
  
Joshua followed Phil's eyes. “Your boyfriend? Fucking hell.”  
  
“No, just a friend. We came here together though, so if-”  
  
“Oh, if that’s the case,” Joshua spoke over him in a booming voice that caused several people standing by to turn their heads. “I don't mind _him_ staying over. Tell him the address. We’ll be sure to keep him occupied for the night.”  
  
Joshua's words oozed with bad intentions. Phil took a step back and crossed his arms, refusing to let his mind play out the scenario. It wasn’t like he had a right to be jealous.  
  
“And then you can find somewhere else,” Joshua continued. “Pick one of your many admirers and bestow them with your presence.”  
  
“You're trying to upset me.” Phil exhaled slowly to maintain the tenuous grasp he still had on his cheerful mood. “It's not going to work.”  
  
“And why would I want-”  
  
“Please,” Phil interrupted. “Does it have to be like this? Before everything, we were friends, right?” He waited for some acknowledgement of this fact, but Joshua’s face remained a brick wall. “We always said we'd stay friends no matter what else.”  
  
Joshua turned his head away. “I can't even stand to look at you.” A muscle in his neck twitched. “You can’t stay friends with someone you hate.”  
  
Phil flinched.  
  
It's commonly said that falling in love isn't a choice. This sounds nice and romantic, but it’s cynical as hell if you scratch beneath the surface. Fortuity burdened some people with love that would never be returned. It'd taken Phil several cycles of heartbreak to figure that one out.  
  
“I'm leaving,” Joshua said. “Let's not see each other again, yeah?”  
  
“Okay.” Phil nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably- you’re right.”  
  
They turned and walked off in opposite directions like magnets charged to repel one another. Phil crossed the park and tried not to think about why Dan looked more uneasy than pleased to see him returning.  


* * *

  
**Stage Two**  
_Alternatives are explored and swiftly abandoned._  
  
People could say what they wanted about Phil’s blind adherence to superstition, but he knew that his avoidance of risk paid off.  
  
Luck was a strange phenomenon. One moment you could be arguing with your ex-boyfriend about whether or not you'd have a place to sleep that night. A few hours later, you'd be snuggled in bed while your best friend escalated your teasing into full-blown sexual tension.  
  
Phil stared at the ceiling and tried to control his breathing. He was actually starting to sweat. Dan kept pressing his freezing hands all over him, but it wasn’t helping to cool him down.    
  
“What you said earlier.” Dan’s voice quavered and he cleared his throat. “If we hadn't been at the train station.”  
  
Phil waited for him to finish his question and then prompted him with a quiet _“yeah?”_ when it didn't come. Dan wriggled against him before responding. It was like he couldn't stop himself. He’d thrown one of his legs over Phil's waist and moved it up and down as if tempted to slide it right between Phil's thighs.  
  
“If we'd been at your house and– well, you said you might've had a different reaction.”  
  
“Maybe,” Phil hedged. “I don't know.”  
  
If kissing Dan had felt unwise at the train station, it seemed downright _perilous_ after his conversation with Joshua. That was all the evidence he needed that friendships could be ruined.  
  
The problem was that he wanted to kiss Dan. He’d been wavering between resisting and giving in all day. It felt like such a simple decision when they were pressed together and Dan was biting his lip and practically begging him to get on with it.  
  
“It seems like a bad idea on the offset, you know?” Phil whispered. “But I mean, the more I thought about it– like, okay, you feel confused sometimes and doubt yourself and I guess you feel like you aren't sure whether or not you'd really like being with another guy since you haven't got that experience, right?”  
  
“Yeah.” Dan paused. “That wasn't why I wanted to kiss you though.”  
  
Phil felt his pulse speed up at Dan’s soft tone. “It's _really_ okay.”  
  
“But I'm not–”  
  
“Seriously, Dan, you’re not going to hurt my feelings,” Phil interrupted before he could get the words out. There was no end to that sentence that Phil was willing to hear. Any conversation about _feelings_ was off the table tonight. “What I was going to say was that when I thought about it, I mean, if you want to experience some new things, then there's a lot of worse choices you could make than picking a friend. I mean, someone who you trust. Someone who won't be a fucking prick to you later on.”  
  
It seemed obvious that Dan was in favor of the tactile approach to figuring out his sexuality. He was going to be kissing someone eventually. If Phil didn't fully trust himself, he still trusted other people less. The thought of Dan ending up with someone like Joshua was worse than the fear of ruining their friendship.  
  
“I wish that I'd–” Phil stopped, uneasy with how many details he was giving away. “It's just, that's not a bad idea, you know?”  
  
“I can't imagine you ever being like that.” A smile played at the corner of Dan’s mouth like the thought was humorous to him.  
  
“I wouldn't,” Phil promised. He leaned closer. “So, can I kiss you?”  
  
There was an extended moment of silence. Dan's answering _“yes”_ was barely audible when it came.  
  
Phil stroked Dan’s jaw and ran his fingers through his hair in a soothing manner, but it didn’t ease the tension that had pervaded every muscle of his body. Each touch made Dan tremble more. Phil licked his lips and kissed him once, gentle and brief, before pulling back just far enough to speak.  
  
“Less confused?” he asked.  
  
There was every possibility that this was all going to end with an awkward laugh and resolution to never speak of it again.  
  
Dan kept his eyes closed. He didn't move away. “No.”  
  
Phil smiled and pulled him in again.  
  
It was supposed to be slow. The word echoed in Phil's head, a steady reminder of _slow, slow, slow_ that had no impact on their frantic pace.  
  
Dan writhed in a way that made Phil moan directly into his mouth. At least chemistry wasn’t a problem. Everything felt natural and fluid, tongues and bodies sliding against each other with only brief pauses to gasp for air before drawing closer.  
  
Phil made a point to keep his hands above their clothes, but Dan wasted no time sliding his own below Phil’s navel to the drawstring on his pajama bottoms.  
  
It was probably for the best that Chloe interrupted the way she did. Phil was seconds away from grabbing Dan's wrist when the door opened, but there was no telling whether he’d been more likely to stop him or encourage him on.  


* * *

  
**Stage Three**  
_The least threatening course of action is selected._  
  
Dan didn’t wake up when Phil crawled over him to get dressed the next morning. He just yawned and rolled back over without opening his eyes. It was endearing the way he sprawled face-down and stretched out to occupy every bit of space as soon as it was available.  
  
Phil finished buttoning up his shirt and almost left the room before pausing.  
  
The blanket was twisted around Dan’s legs. He might get cold. Phil leaned over to smooth it out, covering his shoulders and letting his hands linger far longer than necessary, even reaching up to play with a curl in his hair for a moment before noticing what he was doing.  
  
_Shit._ Phil yanked his hand away and stood up. _Please no._  
  
It was one thing to fool around with a friend when the lights were out and you were sharing a mattress that was made for lilliputians. But waking up with the urge to stay under the blanket for morning cuddles? That was dangerous territory.  
  
The urge to flee was critical. There'd be time to text an apology later.  
  
Phil grabbed both bags off the floor and crept down the darkened hallway to where light was filtering out of the kitchen. He paused in the illumination of the doorway to sort out which one was his.  
  
“Good morning?”  
  
Phil startled and spun around with a gasp. Chloe was sitting at the kitchen table with her phone in one hand and a spoon in the other. It dripped milk onto the table as she stared at him with an uncertain expression.  
  
“Sorry to scare you,” she said. “Are you leaving?”  
  
“Oh.” Phil shook his head. “No, of course not.” He turned from the door and plopped down in the seat beside hers. His entire purpose was to be the adoring boyfriend that Dan deserved. It'd be pathetic if he couldn't even _pretend_ to fill that role. “Dan's still sleeping. I didn't want to wake him.”  
  
“That's nice of you.”  
  
“I’m glad you’re awake. I wanted to apologize about last night.” Phil ducked his head, playing up his embarrassment. “That was rude of us.”  
  
“Don't worry about it,” she said coolly.  
  
“It wasn’t just about that. I know you and Dan haven't really been speaking lately,” Phil said. “And I know that's my fault.”  
  
Chloe stirred her cereal absentmindedly. “It's not.”  
  
The kitchen was silent except for the tinny sound of music coming from the earphones sitting on the table. Chloe picked up her phone to pause the song and looked at Phil nervously. It didn't seem she had any clue what to talk about either.  
  
“So, um, do you really have pictures of Dan with dyed hair?” Phil asked.  
  
“Oh, yeah. Those are real.”  
  
Chloe ran fingers through her own hair as if self-conscious as she swiped through a few albums. Phil laughed when she slid her phone across the table to him. He scooted closer so they could look together. The picture showed Dan holding a hand under his chin as if striking a pose. Purple hair framed his face, which looked soft and rounder than usual.  
  
“God, how old was he there?” Phil asked. “He looks about twelve.”  
  
“That's from last year.”  
  
Phil felt a rush of heat in his cheeks. “Oh.”  
  
“But he always looks-” Chloe waved a hand and laughed.  
  
“Younger,” Phil finished. “Right.”  
  
“I've got others. Let me see that again.” Chloe grabbed the phone back from him. “We're lucky Dan's sleeping because he'd kill me if he knew I was showing you this.” She held it up again, but Phil covered the image with his hand before he could see.  
  
“No, don't- nothing he’d find embarrassing.”  
  
“Oh, please.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “I won't tell him.”  
  
“Really, I don't-” Phil turned the phone over on the table and slid it back to her. “He's sort of weird about his image, isn’t he? I don't want to upset him.” He’d witnessed enough of Dan’s anxiety by now to realize that he never wanted to be the cause of it.  
  
Chloe stared at him with a speculative expression. “Okay. You don’t have to see it.”  
  
“Sorry. I'm not, like- I don't know-”  
  
“No, it's actually- you’re really-” Chloe stopped with a shake of her head. “Well, I'm not sure what you are.”  
  
“Try,” Phil said. “I'd like to know what you think.”  
  
“Charming.” She stood up and walked over to grab another mug and two plates. “I can see why Dan's so in love with you.”  
  
Phil looked down at his hands, unsure what to say to that.  
  
“I'm not saying that to flatter you,” Chloe added.  
  
“I didn't think you were.” Phil smiled as she set coffee in front of him. “Thank you.” The aroma alone was fortifying. He burnt his tongue on an impatient sip before continuing. “If you've got nice pictures, I wouldn't mind seeing those.”  
  
“Nice pictures?”  
  
“Ones that wouldn't make Dan scream and tackle you onto the floor.”  
  
Chloe laughed. “Sure. I’ve got some of those too.”  
  
Phil stared down at picture after picture and listened to the stories that went along with each one, throwing out questions and listening attentively in equal measure. The role of adoring boyfriend seemed to come naturally to him.  
  


* * *

  
**Stage Four**  
_The decision is carried out._  
  
No one ever expects lies from the kind-hearted.  
  
If you’re a considerate, warm person then it’s assumed that you’ll give yourself away. Phil had known this much for years. People always expected him to squirm under pressure. The truth was that he was quite skilled at lying on the rare occasions that he tried. It was easy to make an excuse for why he couldn’t stay.  
  
The taste of Dan’s goodbye kiss was still on Phil’s lips when he bounded down the stairs.  
  
It’s commonly said that falling in love isn't a choice. Phil planned to test that theory.


	3. Limerence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Phil had ever paid attention to lyrics instead of making up his own, the emo bands of his teen years would have prepared him for all of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set between Chapters 9 and 10 of Our Threadbare Lies.

Blue and green striped wallpaper was obnoxiously close to Phil’s nose when he opened his eyes. It was the first reminder that Dan had stayed with him overnight.  
  
No matter what position Phil took when falling asleep with someone, he always woke pressed to the wall with as much room as possible between himself and the other person. He was a flailer and a sprawler. The fact that Dan hadn’t gotten fed up with him and returned to the sofa in the middle of the night was somewhat of a surprise.  
  
An aerial view of Phil’s bed would paint the picture that he was trying to escape Dan’s seeking limbs. There were only two points where their bodies touched. A knee was tucked up against the back of Phil’s thigh and an arm tossed over his chest.  
  
Phil scooted back until they were flush together and pulled Dan’s arm more securely around his body. It was only fair. He _had_ promised him a chance at big spoon the last time they’d spent the night together.  
  
Dan's fingers twitched against Phil's chest, tapping out a rhythm even during sleep. Phil took the opportunity to trail a hand over Dan's arm and watch the muscles in his wrist flex. It was a pretty sight. He loved Dan's arms.  
  
Phil released a quiet sigh that felt like surrender.  
  
Thoughts that came in the early morning were such sneaky little bastards. More dangerous than the ones at midnight that tempted Phil to acquiesce to every hedonistic desire. More unpredictable than the ones that popped into his mind in the shower when each soap bubble brought a new burst of creativity.  
  
It was always those soft, drifting musings upon waking that dug their teeth in.  
  
Because that was it, wasn't it? Phil was fairly certain that no one could love something as mundane as an arm without loving the person who was attached to it.  
  
“Wake up,” Phil said urgently. There would be no more luxuriating in the blank expanse of a mind scrubbed clear during the night. “Dan?”  
  
There was a grumbling whine of protest as Dan’s body stretched out and then curled back up against him in a tighter coil.  
  
“Are you awake?”  
  
“No,” Dan mumbled. “Why?”  
  
“It’s morning,” Phil said.  
  
There was no response for another minute and Phil started to wonder if Dan had fallen back to sleep. Maybe his only option would be to twist out of his grasp and flee the suffocating silence that left too much opportunity for thoughts to bloom. It was, surprisingly, an unappealing notion. Before he could think more about it, there was a soft laugh behind him.  
  
“Did you know you’ve got freckles all over your back?” Dan asked.  
  
“Yeah.” Phil cleared his throat. “I get more every summer.”  
  
“I'm going to name them.”  
  
Dan’s breath was hot against Phil’s shoulder, but he didn't lean forward to kiss him like Phil half-hoped he would. Instead he nuzzled the crook of Phil’s neck and inhaled.  
  
Phil laughed. “I’m not wearing anything.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
Dan’s hand started to wander lower, but Phil stopped it.  
  
“I meant, like, cologne,” Phil said. “Nothing that’d smell nice.”  
  
“You smell nice.” Dan's voice was barely a whisper.  
  
“Are you falling back to sleep?” Phil rolled over to see his eyes had fluttered shut again. “Wake up.”  
  
“I’m _talking_ to you.” Dan's eyes remained closed, lips barely moving with the words. “Completely awake.”  
  
“Maybe you’re sleep talking.”  
  
“I don’t do that.”  
  
“That’s what you think. You were babbling all night.”  
  
Dan’s eyes blinked open. “What?” He pulled away to the edge of the bed to squint at Phil in horror. “No. Is that true?”  
  
“Sorry,” Phil said. “That was a joke.” Evidently a bad one.  
  
“Good,” Dan said. “Sleep talkers are fucking creepy.” His eyes flicked over to the closed bedroom door. “So, this was a terrible idea, wasn’t it?”  
  
Phil felt his stomach flip. Telling Dan that he wanted him to stay the night had felt like a moment of truth, but he should have known it wouldn’t be that simple. Everything that had led them to this point couldn’t be swept away by that single admission.  
  
The way Dan had stepped back with a discouraged frown and asked _“You do want me here, don’t you?”_ had destroyed the last bit of his crumpling resistance. Pulling Dan into bed had been the sweetest failure Phil had ever known.  
  
“Maybe,” he said. “If you think it was, then it was.”  
  
“I don’t,” Dan said. “But your parents are awake now and-”  
  
“My parents? No, that’ll be fine.” Phil shrugged. “You worry too much.”  
  
Dan rolled his eyes and pushed the covers away. “I’ll try to stop.” He walked over to Phil’s mirror wearing nothing but his boxers and pressed a finger against the mark on his neck. “Wow,” he said. “That’s going to be a bitch to cover up.”  
  
“Um, yeah.” Phil sat up in bed to get a better look. “Sorry.” He couldn’t help the way his gaze seemed to linger more on Dan’s body than where his finger was pointing.  
  
“It’s fine. I’ve got-” Dan turned around and let out a short laugh. “Hi.”  
  
It was another moment before Phil registered the word and met Dan’s amused eyes.  
  
“Sorry,” Phil repeated.  
  
“Are you?” Dan stroked his hands down his sides. “What were you staring at exactly?”  
  
“You’re just- well, you know.”  
  
Dan waited for him to say more.  
  
“I don’t know,” Phil stuttered. _Jesus_ , he used to know how to flirt.  
  
“Right.” Dan crossed one arm to cover his body as if his daily allotment of confidence had suddenly gone bankrupt. “I get it,” he added drily. “You just can’t control yourself around me.” His smile deflated as he reached for the bag containing his clothes.  
  
“Something like that,” Phil said. “I mean, no, I can _control_ myself. But you’re- I mean, you know how I feel about you, right?”  
  
Dan stared at him with a wounded expression as if Phil asked with the specific purpose of torturing him. “Yeah, I guess.” There was an edge to his voice like he was worried that might be the wrong answer.  
  
Which was understandable. It’s not like Phil had been doing a great job at being forthright on that point.  
  
“Everything about you is really nice,” Phil blurted out.  
  
Dan’s face showed the barest hint of change. There was a slight tightening around his mouth that his sapped bravado could no longer hide. Phil wasn't quite sure what that meant; he never seemed to be able to pin Dan down - which was an image that he _really_ didn't need his mind to supply right now - to figure out what was going on in his head.  
  
“Sorry,” Phil said, because it was his typical fallback when words failed him.  
  
Apologizing seemed a better option than anything else. Phil was prone to becoming hopelessly tongue-tied when a checkout lady questioned him about his purchases. There was no chance he’d manage speaking now that he’d gone and fallen in love. Giving up on human interaction might be the best plan; he could find an island somewhere and spend the rest of his days sitting on the beach and drawing little misshapen hearts with Dan's initials in the sand. That sounded manageable.  
  
Anxiety succumbed to a flash of annoyance in Dan’s expression. “Stop apologizing.”  
  
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”  
  
“And you didn’t.” Dan ran fingers through his hair and gave him a smile. “I should learn to take a compliment.” He walked over to Phil’s wardrobe and began sorting through his clothes to examine the collar of each shirt he owned.  
  
Phil got out of bed and stood behind him. “One of the button-ups should work.”  
  
Dan pulled a dark red one out and held it against his chest. “Can I borrow it later? When we go into Manchester.”  
  
“Sure.” Phil nodded. “Did you know that shirt’s my favorite?”  
  
“Is it?”  
  
“Yeah. Well, it wasn’t until a few seconds ago,” Phil said. “But it is now that I’ve pictured you wearing it.”  
  
Dan looked up in surprise. “Oh god. That was really bad." He laughed and shook his head. “You are literally the least smooth person I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing.”  
  
He looked down to examine the shirt again, but his lips were still curving into a delighted smile as he ran the fabric over in his fingers.  
  
Maybe Phil could put off looking for that island after all.


End file.
